


What If

by daenyara



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Episode: s08e02, F/F, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, lesbiansssssss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-17 17:53:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20625122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daenyara/pseuds/daenyara
Summary: that conversation from S08E02 but a LOT gayer





	What If

[Originally posted by midqueenally](https://tmblr.co/Zdk4Gs2fKv6pr)

Sansa studies the Queen’s expression, trying to figure out what’s in her thoughts. Is she an enemy or is she going to fight alongside them, like Jon desperately wants to believe?

_‘The Mother of Dragons’_, they call her. For some reason, Sansa finds that woman a lot more terrifying than her fire-breathing beasts. 

Maybe that’s why her gaze can’t help but travel along that shiny moonlit hair, wondering what it would smell like, how soft it would feel against her fingertips. Or maybe all that has nothing to do with fear, and a witch has found her way to the steel heart of the Lady of Winterfell, singing sweet words into her head and enchanting her with tender fire in her veins. Either way, Daenerys Targaryen is both the woman she despises and the one she hates to love.

“I should’ve thanked you the moment you arrived. That was a mistake,” she says in a measured tone, smiling politely.

It’s all she ever does, these days. Smile, and court and nod, just like she was thought. Just like she did in King’s Landing while she was a caged bird for everyone else to torment. She hates it. It makes her feel small and weak, and she swore to herself she’d never been that way again, especially not in her home. She’s done with fearing kings and queens. A wolf doesn’t need a crown to bite. It has fangs and claws that will tear the flesh to shreds. And when he howls in the cold dark night, everyone hears everyone trembles.

But Daenerys doesn’t tremble. She sees the fierceness in Sansa’s eyes, she sees the winter winds bowing to this young maid with hair like burning coals, and she does not fear nor roar back. Instead, she’s in awe, she feels drawn to her.

“Lady Sansa.” Daenerys lets the name linger on her tongue, tasting the sweetness of it. “You’ve been nothing but a most gracious host to me and my people. And yet I can’t help but feel we’re at odds with one another. Why is that?”

Sansa’s lips are pressed together, and she does not answer at first. Daenerys gives her a sad smile.

“We don’t just have a common enemy, my lady. I came all the way here because I trust your brother, but I feel like you, most of all people, can understand me.”

“And why is that?” asks Sansa sharply, her brows furrowed in curious confusion.

Daenerys smirks. “We’ve both known what it means to lead people who aren’t inclined to accept a woman’s rule. And we’ve both done a damn good job of it, from what I can tell.”

This time, Sansa chuckles. After a moment, she turns serious once again and speaks. “You say the Iron Throne is your _only_ goal. You say you want to _take it back_ from the people who destroyed your family.”

Daenerys simply nods, waiting for her to continue.

“And what happens afterwards? We defeat the dead, we destroy Cersei, you sit on that throne… What happens then?”

There’s a flash of irritation in Daenerys’ eyes, as she tries to keep her tone light. “Forgive me, my lady, I do not quite understand.” Her voice is sweet as poison and just as deadly. “I’m under the impression that you may wish for someone else to rule over Westeros. Do you see me unfit to sit on the Iron Throne, Lady Sansa?”

Sansa’s laughter echoes through the room, bitter.

“I have no wish to take the throne from you, your Grace,” she announces in a cold voice. “In fact, you may be the best chance for this world to become a better place.”

Daenerys cocks an eyebrow. “I did not realize you thought so highly of me, my lady.”

A subtle flush appears on Sansa’s ivory cheeks, but she quickly regains her stoic composure. “We don’t know each other very well, but I’ve heard things. You’re smart enough to make alliances yet weary enough not to trust people blindly. You’re kind and compassionate to those who deserve mercy but ruthless when circumstances require it.” Sansa locks her eyes with Daenerys. Emerald green into a deep purple. “You’ll make a good queen. Better than Cersei, anyway.”

Silent, Daenerys ponders upon her words. After a long moment, she leans in, their faces dangerously close. “Then what is it that worries you, Sansa?”

Thrown off by the sudden intimacy, Sansa hesitates. Then she speaks, her voice firm despite the quivering of her heart, scorching power burning in her gaze. “What about the North? It was taken from us and we took it back. And we said we’d never bow to anyone else again. What about the North?”

Daenerys thinks about the question. She takes Sansa’s hand in hers, squeezing gently. “Have you ever consider, my lady,” she begins to ask with a smirk, and Sansa feels her cheeks growing hotter at the glint in the queen’s eyes, “that we could rule _together_?” Daenerys chuckles as she observes Sansa’s speechless reaction. “You must have thought about it… I certainly have.”

Sansa swallows hard. “That’s – that’s not what I was– ” she mutters, unable to finish the sentence. Her mind is hazy, all her thoughts focused on how close their lips are.

“The time of men _may_ be coming to an end, Sansa, but our has yet to begin.” Daenerys’ voice is silky, dark and tempting as a siren song. Her next words, however, sound heartfelt and sincere. “I don’t want to be at odds with you, my lady. I want you to trust me, as I trust you. And I want you with me.”

Sansa breathes in, almost overwhelmed by Daenerys’ sole presence. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying, I had agreed to help in the fight against the dead before your brother bent the knee. Taking the North from you was never my intention… not lately, anyway.” Daenerys gives Sansa a crooked smile, almost apologetic. “I had thought about splitting the Kingdoms between me and Jon, leaving him to rule the North as I did so in the South. And then I met you.”

Sansa shots her a confused glance but doesn’t speak, letting her finish.

“Once this is all over, if we even survive… I can’t think of no one better than you, my lady.” Daenerys bites down her lip, her eyes never leaving Sansa’s.

“Better than me at _what_, exactly?” asks Sansa, not daring to hope. 

Yet the words her heart was praying to hear are spoken, loud and clear, by the sharp tongue and velvet lips of Daenerys Targaryen.

“To be _my_ Queen, lady Sansa. Will you stay at my side as we rule the world?”


End file.
